


Devil in a Cage

by Eclectic_Goddess



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Book/Movie Fusion, Gen, Kidnapping, M/M, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1432480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eclectic_Goddess/pseuds/Eclectic_Goddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One year, nine months, two weeks, and six days, and then, no more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil in a Cage

**Author's Note:**

> After X-Men Origins - Wolverine, I found myself trying to reconcile the movie Gambit with my comic Gambit. This story is one part of my own personal head canon, in which Gambit is much more like his comic self, but the events of the movie remain. For example, I've decided that Striker's experiments on Gambit might have been what caused his powers to grow out of control, which also partly explains why they are so different when Wolverine first finds him.
> 
> Written May 2009. Previously posted on my Livejournal.

 

 

                Remy wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. It has been one year, nine months, two weeks, and five days, by his count. The drugs sometimes distorted his sense of time, and there were no windows in the iso lab downstairs to follow the movement of the sun through, but he could always track the days by which guards were on duty and what they were serving for “dinner”.

 

                “LeBeau.”

 

                Remy didn’t lift his head. He was sitting on the floor next to the narrow bunk, knees drawn up. His head was still swimming from whatever cocktail Stryker had dreamed up this week. It was meant to inhibit Remy’s powers, but all it did was make him feel dizzy and sick. The kinetic power was still there, a not-unpleasant tingle at his fingertips, just waiting to be released. Hell, since Stryker had started his poking and prodding and testing, there were times when Remy felt like he was swimming in power. He felt like he could charge something up by just looking at it long enough, like he could charge the very air, but he’d seen the line of freezers in the procedure room upstairs, and he had no intentions of getting one of his own. For now, it seemed best to pretend that the drugs were working.

 

                “LeBeau, chow.” The guard at the door banged the plastic tray against the slot in the door.

 

                Wincing, Remy waved a hand. “ _Non_ , I’m not hungry.”

 

                “Come on, LeBeau, don’t start with me.”

 

                Remy was just wondering what the guard would do if he went to get the tray, then threw it back in his face, when another voice joined the first.

 

                “Leave him be, Bill. He don’t want to eat, he don’t have to.”

 

                Remy forced himself to look up then, leaning his head back against the cell wall behind him. “ _Merci, m’sieur_ ,” he said to the familiar guard who stood smiling at him.

 

                “How you feeling, kid? Think you might be up to a game later? I got the late shift tonight.”

 

                Remy had known that already, but he nodded anyway. “I t’ink I might be up for a bit of a game. You go easy on me, _non?_ ”

 

                The guard laughed. “Hell no. I ain’t falling for that again. Besides, I think I’ve got you figured out now. This might be my lucky night.”

 

                As he moved off, Remy forced himself to smile, even if it was short-lived. Maybe he’d let him win a hand or two tonight. It was important to stay on the guards’ good side. It wasn’t their fault he was here, and he might be able to use them someday.

 

                Besides, nights were the worst. It got quiet. Quiet enough that Remy had a hard time ignoring the wash of pain and despair and terror emanating from the kids around him. He didn’t think Stryker knew about his empathy, and he intended to keep it that way. But that didn’t make it any easier to bear, and he welcomed the distraction a few almost-friendly games of poker could provide.

 

                Letting his eyes close again, Remy sighed. It was easy to give into the effects of the drugs and let himself drift.

 

 

~

 

 

                Remy thought he was dreaming, lost in the dark, with that voice following him, that sound.

 

                Then he realized he was awake, and he could not hold back the shudder.

 

                A low chuckle rolled in from outside the cell, and he knew his reaction had not been missed.

 

                “Wakey, wakey, swamp rat.”

 

                Remy opened his eyes. From the darkness outside the high windows, he guessed it was late. Most of the kids around him were asleep. Those that weren’t would likely be pretending, praying that Victor would take no notice of them.

 

                He stood in front of Remy’s cell, grinning. He ran one hand across the door, his nails ringing on the grate. Remy had seen those nails go through steel like it was made of butter, but for now Victor was just enjoying the sound. That was the sound that had followed Remy down into his sleep, and he sometimes wondered if he’d ever be free of it again.

 

                “Sweet dreams?” Victor asked, his amusement plain.

 

                Remy reached up to grab the end of his bunk and pull himself onto it. The ground still heaved under him, but sitting curled up on the floor seemed too much like cowering, and he’d swore never to do that in front of Victor again.

 

                “Go ‘way, Victor. I’m not in the mood for you.”

 

                Victor laughed, louder than necessary. He folded his arms and leaned comfortably against the cell door. “Aw, come on, kid. I’m bored. Entertain me. Show me a card trick.”

 

                “I got no cards, _homme_.” Remy pushed a hand back through his hair, willing his brain to unfog. Dealing with Victor was like walking a tightrope, and he couldn’t afford any slips. “De guards keep ‘em.”

 

                Victor made an exasperated noise that Remy understood immediately. The kids weren’t the only ones afraid of Victor. He wasn’t good at making friends, and they had seen what happened when he lost his temper. When Victor was down among the cells, they suddenly found reason to be elsewhere. Remy could hardly blame them.

 

 

~

 

 

                It had taken Victor three tries to bring Remy in. Unsubtle, the first time he’d tried to simply grab Remy as he was leaving a club. Remy had no trouble twisting out of his hands and vanishing into the crowded streets. He hadn’t even needed to use his powers. The second time, Victor had the good sense to corner him in a back alley. Unable to run, Remy had fought. When it became clear that Victor meant to take him or kill him trying, Remy had caught hold of the long black coat that Victor wore and pumped every bit of kinetic energy he could muster into it. He’d caught part of the resulting blast himself, but not so much that he wasn’t able to flee while Victor was down.

 

                Remy had been careful after that. No more clubs, no more parties. He considered asking for the Thieves’ Guild’s help, but they had not parted on good terms. He suspected that they were relieved to be free from _Le Diable Blanc_ and the trouble he brought with him. He did a few small jobs to stockpile some cash, and considered, for the first time in his young life, leaving New Orleans.

 

                He’d kept a little place by the waterfront, somewhere to store certain valuable items that he hadn’t yet turned into cash. No one knew about it, and since it had become obvious that a secret government agency had been hunting him, he’d taken to sleeping there. It felt safe.

 

                Until the day that he’d opened the door to find Victor there, waiting for him.

 

                Remy had been surprised, but not so surprised that he hadn’t had the good sense to run. The chase went from street level to rooftops, through deserted warehouses and busy streets. Remy was fast and smart, and he knew the city more intimately than most, but he hadn’t been able to shake Victor. He’d known he would eventually run out of ideas and strength, and then Victor would bring him down.

 

                And, then, suddenly, Victor had. They’d come to the grounds of one of the bigger houses in the Quarter, and Remy had been glad for the thick, overgrown grass when Victor had taken him out at the knees, sending them both down hard. On the ground, the fight hadn’t lasted long. Victor had learned from their previous encounters, and he quickly had Remy pinned face-down, both hands captured in one of his much larger ones. The other hand, he had wrapped around the back of Remy’s neck, his long nails digging in.

 

                Leaning down close, Victor had growled, “You owe me a new coat, boy.”

 

                Then he had laughed. Remy thought that was the worst part. He had laughed, and Remy had panicked. With his empathy, he had felt the primal satisfaction radiating from Victor, and his desire to take this further, to complete the hunt. As Victor’s weight settled more firmly on his back, he had also felt his erection. Remy had thrashed, not caring about the blood he could feel trickling down his neck, not caring if both his arms were wrenched out of their sockets.

 

                “Relax, boy. It’s nothing personal. Just the thrill of the chase getting to me, that’s all.” Victor had said, still laughing. “Though I wouldn’t complain if you wanted to keep wiggling around down there.”

 

                It had taken all of his will to stop fighting, to go still. Victor had growled, but his amusement hadn’t faded.

 

                “Spoil-sport.” Victor had taken the hand away from his neck long enough to retrieve something from his pocket. Remy had learned what it was when he felt the needle jab into his shoulder. After that, he’d felt very little. He had only been dimly aware being rolled over onto his back and the sickening sensation of Victor licking the blood from his throat.

 

 

~

 

 

                Victor ran his nails across the grate once more and Remy winced.

 

                “You ain’t been down in the lab much lately,” Victor said.

 

                Remy shrugged. Stryker didn’t tell them anything, his guinea pigs, but word got around. After all the effort Stryker had gone through the acquire him, he hadn’t been able to find a way to put Remy’s powers to good use. Remy got a grim satisfaction from every failed experiment. Once, he’d watched from his cell as an all-too-familiar explosion had ripped through the procedure room, sending guards and medical staff scrambling. The “subject” had died, but he’d taken two of the people responsible with him, and that was something, at least.

 

                “Maybe he’s got bigger plans for you, kid.”

 

                Remy wanted to scoff, but this was Victor, and whatever he might have meant couldn’t be good. “Oh, _oui_? Like what?”

 

                Victor shrugged. “You got skills, boy. You ain’t like the rest of these children.” Victor threw a disgusted look back at the other cells and Remy’s empathy picked up a tiny spike of fear. Someone else was awake, at least. “If Stryker had tracked you down ten years ago, he would have asked you to join the team. When there was a team.”

 

                “Not much a team player, me.”

 

                “None of us were. But we had a guy who shot things, a strong guy, a guy who teleported, a guy who was good with a blade…we could have used a guy who blew things up.”

 

                “Ten years ago I was just a _chile_ , _homme_.”

 

                “So? Bradley was just a kid, and we dragged him along. Besides, I’m guessing you were never ‘just a _chile_ ’.”

 

                Remy could hardly argue with that. He wasn’t sure where Victor was going with this conversation. Usually, Victor’s late night visits consisted primarily of taunts and threats, some more specific than others.

 

                “I heard Stryker talking the other day, to one of those doctors.” Victor’s voice lowered. “They were saying they needed another volunteer, and your name came up.”

 

                The cold wash of horror made Remy forget all about the sick feeling in his stomach. Leaping up from his bunk, he was almost at the door to his cell before he remembered who was on the other side. He stopped short, trying to catch his breath, staring at Victor.

 

                “ _Non._ You’re not so funny as you think you are, _connard_.” Remy wanted to call him something worse, but his mind was blank.

 

                “Hey,” Victor leaned close to the grate and met Remy’s eyes. The amusement was gone. “I ain’t kidding.”

 

                Remy wanted to close his eyes and sink back down into the darkness. He wanted to believe that this was a bad dream, all of it. But it wasn’t.

 

                He could reach out and put his hands on the door and blow it off the hinges, easy. He wouldn’t have any trouble with the guards, even the ones with guns. He’d learned to dodge bullets a long time ago. He guessed that he’d even be able to find his way through the maze of tunnels to the outside. And once he was out, he could run, and keep running until he put this hell behind him.

 

                But then there was Victor. Victor, who had proven more than capable of hunting him and bringing him down. Victor, who had laughed and licked the blood from his neck.

 

                “Hey, kid.” Remy forced himself to focus, and found Victor still staring at him, still serious. “Just thought you should know.”

 

                Anger beat back the terror just enough for Remy to lift his chin. “ _Oui_ , and now I know. But I tell you this, Victor. Dey ain’t gonna turn me into one of those t’ings. _Non_.”

 

                Victor smiled again. “You see, that’s why I like you, swamp rat. You got spirit. You’re a fighter.”

 

                Remy said nothing, desperately wanting to hold onto his anger. He needed it.

 

                “Huntin’ you was the most fun I’ve had, doing this gig.” If he noticed Remy’s scowl at the “compliment”, Victor didn’t show it. Instead, he looked at Remy with an entirely different kind of heat in his eyes. His smile grew, and Remy saw his tongue sweep across his sharp canines. Like an animal licking his chops. “I was looking forward to having a lot more, but Stryker’s kept you cooped up tight. Now this…I hate to see you go out like that.”

 

                Remy was frozen. As frightening of Victor’s idea of “fun” could be, Remy sensed that he wasn’t just saying this to make him squirm. Victor was trying to tell him something. Something important.

 

                “Oh well.” Victor heaved a sigh and straightened up. Stepping away from the cell, he adjusted his coat. “I gotta go. I ain’t gonna be around for a while.”

 

                “ _Non_? Where you going, _homme_?”

 

                “Up North. I’m going home for a visit…maybe do some huntin’.” Victor said, sounding casual but _not_. “In fact, Stryker is coming along this time. He’s bringing the whole team. Even his little lap dog, Zero. He’s hoping it’ll be a short trip, but I don’t think so. It could be weeks before he so much as thinks about this place.”

 

                And there is was. Stunned, Remy glanced up to the office where the guards where wiling away the night. When he looked back down, Victor was waiting to meet his eyes. His canines flashed again as he grinned.

 

                “Take care of yourself kid. I’ll be seeing you again. Maybe then we can have some fun.”

 

                Remy nodded, swallowing past the mixture of fear and hope that threatened to choke him. “Maybe. Maybe next time, _I_ have the fun, _oui_?”

 

                Victor laughed, a little too loudly, and above, a guard came to the window to look cautiously down. Children all around them started and stirred. Remy just stood there and watched him leave, his mind working quickly.

 

                One year, nine months, two weeks, and six days, and then, no more.

 

 

THE END

 


End file.
